Straight
by JustJasper
Summary: Morgan is drunk and talking about his man fee-fees with Clooney. Drabble. Implied Morgan/Reid. Established relationship: references previous fics. Sexual references. Clooney written as a German Shepherd.


"**No one appreciates the very special genius of your conversation as the dog does." - Christopher Morley**

"Don't give me that look." Morgan said, without looking up from the fridge. Clooney made a little whining sound in his throat; he had always been "talkative", responding to Morgan's inane chatter or direct commands with some kind of sound. Sometimes it was so convincing Morgan was lulled into thinking Clooney understood his speech rather than simply his tone and volume. He was an intelligent dog, a reject from the police force after a crush injury to his foot ended his career at seven months when his training had really just begun. It had healed completely, but service dog training was intensive, and Clooney had been left behind. He'd been adopted-out like many rejected or ex police dogs were, via contacts and friends-of-friends, and the most Morgan expected of him was to bark at any intrusion and not pee indoors.

Morgan opened the top of his fifth beer and padded back into his living room, heading for the couch. There were two slices of pizza left in the box from hanging out with Gary, an old cop friend, and even though Morgan was hungry because he'd kept drinking, he knew if he went to eat he'd end up sharing with the dog, because he was a little too drunk to enforce the rules.

Clooney, who had hopped onto the sofa, rested his head in Morgan's lap, looking up at him with expressive eyes. Morgan relented quickly, giving him a scratch behind the ears.

"I'm too good to you." Morgan said to the dog, words slightly slurred. He offered his hand and Clooney mouthed playfully at it. "Treat you like a little baby... or a lady." Morgan nodded. "I think I'm going mad, boy; haven't actually been with a lady since-" he drifted off, staring through the TV rather than at it as it sounded and flickered.

Clooney made a cute whining sound, as if in response to Morgan. The man was at the point where he was just drunk enough not to consider that Clooney was just making noise, rather than actually responding.

"Well, for two weeks. Doesn't sound like a long time, but last week... you remember Reid?" The dog cocked his head to the side. "The skinny guy, the one who went all stiff and weird when you jumped up at him wanting to play. Remember him?" Clooney gave a quick bark, watching Morgan's face in the most convincing way. "I had sex with him." Morgan nodded, exaggerated look of thought on his face, lips slightly pouted. "Like real sex. The kind some men have with other men."

He leant forward and retrieved a lukewarm slice of pizza from the box, not noticing the sudden extra attention his companion animal was paying to him. He took a bite, thinking and chewing.

"You know I've never even had that kind of sex with women." He admitted, mouth full of pizza. Clooney's eyes were flicking between his alpha's face and the slice of pizza he had in hand. "I only have first dates," he slurred, "and women don't do that on first dates. I mean obviously, why would they? It hurts."

He closed his eyes and breathed out slowly through his nose. Being drunk meant if he wasn't careful he was liable to start thinking about things he didn't want to, and wouldn't be able to stop.

"Reid liked it." he muttered, opening his eyes again. Clooney whined, and Morgan relented, tearing off a piece of pizza for him. "Like actually enjoyed having a dick in him." he paused, looking at his companion. Even in his drunken state, he wondered whether Clooney was the one he should be talking about sex with. The drink won the internal debate. "I didn't think anyone really liked that. I thought people just did it for the other person's pleasure. But Reid... he wanted to do it, and he liked it."

Clooney gave a couple of small barks, and Morgan stroked his head.

"Yeah, I liked it too." he muttered, and took a long drink from his beer. "And I have no idea what that means. I'm not attracted to men. I like women."

Clooney pushed his snout under Morgan's hand, licking at his palm. His alpha stroked him behind the ears absently, smiling at his companion.

"First time was after a case, and we just... you know, we were just reacting. The sex was reactionary." Morgan slurred, addressing the dog, even though he knew somewhere in the haze of his drunken mind he was talking to himself. "Then last week... well that was my fault. Just it was good the first time, I wanted it again. And we're friends, y'know, Cloon? So it was just a friend thing. Just two friends, helping each other relieve stress. By having sex with each other."

He hiccupped. Clooney gave an excited bark.

"But it's been okay. Not weird. We're both adults." Another hiccup. "We've had a couple of cases since then, and it was all cool. I'm not gay." Morgan said, suddenly changing topic and nodding to himself. "Gay men are romantically attracted to other men. I'm not. I'm not romantically attracted to anyone. So can I be straight? I'm not nothing. Am I? I like having – hic! – having sex. With women. And a man. Twice. Maybe that doesn't count in deciding what I am. Because that's just like having a cig – hic! – cigarette at a party; you're still a non-smoker. And gay men sleep with women to hide it, and they're still gay."

Clooney seemed to have finally lost interest in Morgan's drunken babbling, because his head was rested on his lap again, eyes half-closed as Morgan strokes him absent-mindedly. In this situation, a silent listener equalled a good listener. The dog would never judge him for what he shared, or say anything to make Morgan think about things he didn't want to.

"I'm straight." He nodded assuredly to himself.

He was drunk enough to believe it was that simple.


End file.
